Status

Recent Statuses

22 days ago
Current Motherfucker, if I submit an application to work for you online, don't respond back telling me to complete the application and give me a link that sends me to do an entirely different, brand new one.
1 like
1 mo ago
The "left" ranges from "let's legalize marijuana and welfare is cool" to "let's lynch all the landlords and bankers" and that's amazing.
3 likes
2 mos ago
If Don Juan is actually pronounced as Don Jew-un, I might actually start crying.
1 like
2 mos ago
Hi my name is Nev and I'm terrified of death. How are you?
1 like

Bio

"In sixty days you'll be fighting Billy Petrolle, and you think it's a big fat joke."

"I don't think it's a joke, sir."

"Don't interrupt."

"And say 'sir,' when you do."

"Yes, sir."

"Weren't you just ordered not to interrupt?"

"But I didn't interrupt, sir."

"No, and you didn't say sir, either. Add that to the charges against him. Failure to say 'sir' to superior officers when not interrupting them."

"Metcalf, you're a goddamn fool, do you know that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then keep your goddamn mouth shut. You don't make any sense."

"Now, what did you mean when you said we couldn't punish you?"

"When, sir?"

"I'm asking the questions, you're answering them."

"Yes, sir. I-"

"Did you think we brought you here for you to ask questions and for me to answer them?"

"No, sir. I-"

"What did we bring you here for?"

"To answer questions."

"You're goddamn right. Now, suppose you start answering some before I break your goddamn head. Just what the hell did you mean, you bastard, when you said we couldn't punish you?"

"I don't think I ever made that statement, sir."

"Will you speak up, please. I couldn't hear you."

"Yes, sir. I-"

"Will you speak up, please? He couldn't hear you.'

"Yes, sir. I-"

"Metcalf."

"Sir?"

"Didn't I tell you to keep your stupid mouth shut?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then keep your stupid mouth shut when I tell you to keep your stupid mouth shit. Do you understand? Now, will you speak up please, I couldn't hear you."

"Yes, sir. I-"

"Metcalf, is that your foot I'm stepping on?"

"No, sir. It must be Lieutenant Schiesskopf's foot."

"It isn't my foot."

"Then maybe it is my foot after all."

"Move it."

"Yes, sir. You'll have to move your foot first, Colonel."

"Are you telling me to move my foot?"

"No, sir. Oh, no, sir."

"Then move your foot and keep your stupid mouth shut. Will you speak up, please? I still couldn't hear you."

"Yes, sir. I said that I didn't say you couldn't punish me."

"Just what the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm answering your question, sir."

"What question?"

"'Just what the hell did you mean, you bastard, when you said we couldn't punish you?'"

"All right. Just what the hell did you mean?"

"I didn't say you couldn't punish me, sir."

"When?"

"When what, sir?"

"Now you're asking me questions again."

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid I don't understand your question."

"When didn't you say we couldn't punish you? Don't you understand my question?"

"No, sir. I don't understand."

"You've just told us that. Now suppose you answer my question."

"But how can I answer it?"

"That's another question you're asking me."

"I'm sorry, sir. But I don't know how to answer it. I never said you couldn't punish me."

"Now you're telling us when you did say it. I'm asking you to tell me when you didn't say it."

"I always didn't say you couldn't punish me, sir."

"That's much better, Mr. Clevinger, even though it is a barefaced lie. Last night in the latrine. Didn't you whisper that we couldn't punish you to that other dirty son of a bitch we don't like. What's his name?"

"Yossarian, sir."

"Yes, Yossarian. That's right. Yossarian. Yossarian? Is that his name? Yossarian? What the hell kind of name is Yossarian?"

"It's Yossarian's name, sir."

"Yes, I suppose it is. Didn't you whisper to Yossarian that we couldn't punish you?"

"Oh, no, sir. I whispered to him that you couldn't find me guilty-"

"I may be stupid, but the distinction escapes me. I guess I am pretty stupid, because the distinction escapes me."

"W-"

"You're a windy son of a bitch, aren't you? Nobody asked you for a clarification and you're giving me a clarification. I was making a statement, not asking for a clarification. You're a windy son of a bitch, aren't you?"

"No, sir."

"'No, sir?' Are you calling me a goddamn liar?"

"Oh, no, sir."

"Then you're a windy son of a bitch, aren't you?"

"No, sir."

"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?"

"Are you a windy son of a bitch?"

"No, sir."

"Goddammit, you are trying to pick a fight with me. For two stinking cents, I'd jump over this big fat table and rip your stinking, cowardly body apart limb from limb."

"Do it! Do it!"

"Metcalf, you stinking son of a bitch. Didn't I tell you to keep your stinking, cowardly, mouth shut?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"Then suppose you do it."

"I'm only trying to learn, sir. The only way a person can learn is by trying."

"Who says so?"

"Everybody says so, sir. Even Lieutenant Schiesskopf says so."

"Do you say so?"

"Yes, sir. But everybody says so."

"Well, Metcalf, suppose you try keeping that stupid mouth of yours shut, and maybe that's the way you'll learn how. Now, where we? Read me back my last line."

"'Read me back my last line.'"

"Not my last line, stupid! Somebody else's."

"'Read me back my last line.'"

"That's my last line again!"

"Oh, no, sir. That's my last line. I read it to you just a moment ago. Don't you remember, sir? It was only a moment ago."

"Oh, my God! Read me back his last line, stupid. Say, what the hell's your name, anyway?"

"Popinjay, sir."

"Well, you're next, Popinjay. As soon as this trial ends, your trial begins. Get it?"

"Yes, sir. What will I be charged with?"

"What the hell difference does that make? Did you hear what he asked me? You're going to learn, Popinjay-the minute we finish with Clevinger, you're going to learn. Cadet Clevinger, what did- You are Cadet Clevinger, aren't you, and not Popinjay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, what did-"

"I'm Popinjay, sir."

"Popinjay, is your father a millionaire, or a member of the senate?"

"No, sir."

"Then you're up shit creek, Popinjay, without a paddle. He's not a general or a high-ranking member of the Administration, is he?"

"No, sir."

"That's good. What does your father do?"

"He's dead, sir."

"That's very good. You really are up the creek, Popinjay. Is Popinjay really your name? Just what the hell kind of name is Popinjay, anyway? I don't like it."

"It's Popinjay's name, sir."

"Well, I don't like it, Popinjay, and I just can't wait to rip your stinking, cowardly body apart limb from limb. Cadet Clevinger, will you please repeat what the hell you did or didn't say to Yossarian late last night in the latrine?"

"Yes, sir. I didn't say you couldn't find me guilty-"

"We'll take it from there. Precisely what did you mean, Cadet Clevinger, when you said we couldn't find you guilty?"

"I didn't say you couldn't find me guilty, sir."

"When?"

"When what, sir?"

"Goddamnit, are you going to start pumping me again?"

"No, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"Then answer the question. When didn't you say we couldn't find you guilty."

"Last night in the latrine, sir."

"Is that the only time you didn't say it?"

"No, sir. I always didn't say you couldn't find me guilty, sir. What I did say to Yossarian was-"

"Nobody asked you what you did say to Yossarian. We asked you what you didn't say to him. We're not at all interested in what you did say to Yossarian. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then we'll go on. What did you say to Yossarian?"

"I said to him, sir, that you couldn't find me guilty of the offense with which I am charged and still be faithful to the cause of..."

"Of what? You're mumbling."

"Stop mumbling."

"Yes, sir."

"And mumble 'sir' when you do."

"Metcalf, you bastard!"

"Yes, sir. Of justice, sir. That you couldn't find-"

"Justice? What's justice?"

"Justice, sir-"

"That's not what justice is. That's what Karl Marx is I'll tell you what justice is. Justice is a knee in the gut from the floor on the chin at night sneaky with a knife brought up down on the magazine of a battleship sandbagged underhanded in the dark without a word of warning. Garroting. That's what justice is when we've al got to be tough enough and rough enough to fight Billy Petrolle. From the hip. Get it?"

"No, sir."

"Don't sir me!"

"Yes, sir."

"And say 'sir,' when you don't."

Most Recent Posts

Orrin


Practice



"One minute?!"

Orrin looked and sounded horrified, his mouth agape. He looked like someone had told him that he had a minute to live, instead of a minute to catch his breath. Then, he closed his eyes, and a blissful calm came over him. A broad smile lit up his face and, for the next few moments, he forgot that he was surrounded by other students.

"One minute! Of course! One minute is just long enough to get loose!"

He turned his neck to the left and to the right, audible pops sounding off as he did so.

"Yes! Loose...loose and..." He twisted at the hips, and a chorus of defeaning cracking sounded as his back popped. "...limber!"

You actually just said that out loud, didn't you?

He looked down at the ground, face burning a bit.

You only get one chance to make a first impression.

He gulped, looking for somewhere to flee to. He found his safe harbor in the form of three students. A blonde-haired boy with pants in a state of disrepair, a faunus girl, and a girl with white hair. He tried to think of the lesson he'd learned from the "limber" incident just moments ago.

Be cool. He thought for a moment. Do I say 'hi' or 'hello?" His eyes widened. No! Of course! All the coolest hunters say...

"Yo."

@Tominas @Driving Park @Norschtalen
Aryll's post is up. I just edited it into Kaivor's post.
Kaivor Igvrius
Husband of Kendra Riu Bell @Vesuvius00
Interacting with: Kendra Riu Bell @Vesuvius00]

Kaivor’s eye twitched ever-so-slightly as Gaelnesh walked away. There was much he had wanted to say, but little enough time to say it. His rational mind told him this was a good thing, that it had been smart of him to offer nothing but a terse nod and some succinct words of gratitude. So, he took long, slow breaths. Finally, he sighed, the twitching ceasing.

In lieu of a proper guard, he’d brought his oldest brother, Delleck. Dell was younger than he by about thirty years, and the older of his younger two brothers. A good fighter with a thick head, Dell had just enough tact to keep silent while Gaelnesh was present, but not so much as to keep him from voicing his thoughts when he’d gone.

Fucking prick.” He muttered, only just audible. Kaivor allowed himself a brief chuckle. Their father had called Gaelnesh all sorts of things, but ‘prick’ was a favorite. “Kai, you lucky bastard.” Kaivor was a confused for a moment, but it didn’t take him long to understand. He sighed, shot his brother a look, and turned to examine the bride he’d been almost too preoccupied to notice. As he did, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, something almost resembling a smile. It passed quickly.

She undid her hair and spoke.

"I am Kendra Riu Bell, of Haarale."

At least Gaelnesh has good taste, he thought.

"and what might I call you, M'lord?"

“I am Lord Kaivor Igvrius.” He said, flatly, formally, awkwardly. He, admittedly, hadn’t put much thought into how he’d act around his bride. His father had always been harsh to his brides, but they’d all died almost as soon as they’d given birth. He decided to lighten up, just a bit. “You will take pains to not follow my brother’s example. Never call me Kai.” The words were commanding, perhaps, but his tone was light. “You may call me ‘Kaivor,’ if you wish. Otherwise, I do believe that ‘Lord Husband’ or ‘Lord Igvrius’ will be fine.”

Well, that’s all well and good.” Delleck roughly threw his arm around Kaivor’s shoulder. “But, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a feast to enjoy.” He let go of Kaivor, turned on his heel, and scampered off to go, most likely, to drink himself into a stupor. Kaivor sighed in exasperation.

“Tell me, Kendra.” Kaivor turned to her, and then looked around at the feast. “Are you hungry?”






Aryll Imaali
Bride of Zevi Mael@BlackPanther
Interacting with: Zevi @BlackPanther

Aryll had begrudgingly left the springs, disappointed that her attempted conversation with the girl who’d stood had been cut short. She did as she was told, and though she felt compelled to tell the guards exactly where they could shove their commands, she didn’t. She couldn’t tell if the desire to resist being overcome by a sense of self-preservation was an actual conflict, or just a repeated pattern of cowardice.

She struggled with that all the way to the capital, once again retreating inward. She spoke nary a word, only nodding and occasionally grunting in acknowledgement the few times she was directly spoken to by the guards.

She only really started paying attention to her surroundings when she was yanked out of a line by the younger of the two princes and brought before a younger-looking Drakkan. He was handsome, she had to admit, and he certainly seemed less… severe than some of the other Drakken she’d seen. Still, though, she couldn’t suppress the bitterness that rose in her throat. It burned and she wanted to scream.

She bit her tongue, and the pain brought her back to reality. She didn’t speak, didn’t look at him. Instead, she kept her eyes trained firmly on the ground. If she spoke, her voice might break, and she wouldn’t let the Drakkan hear that. She clenched her fists, and tried to keep her hands from shaking. It might’ve been out of fear.

Or anger.


Aryll Imaali

Interacting with: Onyx Briyll @Vesuvius00

Aryll had always considered herself a social creature, but fear and despair had a way of making some people retreat inwards. It was only natural, she supposed, but she just didn’t feel like herself. Ever since she’d bowed to the Drakkan out of fear and saved her own skin, she’d scarcely spoken a word. Not through lessons, not through the night, and certainly not at breakfast. She’d directed that energy normally reserved for speaking to her thoughts. Her mind had few enough kind words.

Coward. She was still kicking herself over her refusal to stand, but couldn’t help but feel relieved after seeing what had happened to the protesters. She felt guilty, craven.

What would father think? Perhaps it was the naivete of youth, but as far as Aryll was concerned, her father was the strongest person she knew. Not perfect, she was old enough to know that. He’d taught her about the importance of self-sufficiency, of strength while simultaneously trying to shield her from the world. Her father would be horrified at her current situation, but she knew that he’d also want his daughter to be brave. Would he be disappointed?

She was glad for the hot springs. It rekindled some anger, that she’d been treated so poorly that a bath was cause for celebration, but it didn’t it stop her from smiling to herself as she finally dropped her towel to the side and lowered herself into one of the deeper pools. There, she was content to submerge herself in the water with some of the other, more introverted gems.

She watched with a slight smile as the splashing fight started, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders, even though she wasn’t actively involved in it.

Eventually, another gem made her way to their pool. Aryll recognized her, one of those who’d stood in the dining hall. It would’ve been easy to remain silent and just enjoy the water, but maybe some part of her regular personality was still there. She turned to the newcomer.

“You were one of those who stood, right?” She asked, earnestly. She’d tried to speak conversationally, but some her admiration must’ve slipped into her words. “Does- does it still hurt?”


Edric





How could we be so stupid?

Edric and Azamor thought as one, their temporarily-unified mind running on one track.

Our sword.

It had been foolish, they realized, not to have their sword on them. More than foolish, idiotic. It was difficult for them to discern which of their thoughts were Azamor's and which were Edric's, but it seemed as though those fragments of oneness that belonged to Azamor blamed Edric for not having the sword, and Edric's fragments were defensive. After all, it was an International Expo, not the open road. It seemed silly to carry around a sword.

Stupid.

It was a good thing that Azamor had convinced Edric to keep their dagger on them. There were demons in the dozens around them, but they ignored most of them, single-mindedly heading toward the rental locker where they were keeping Edric's sword. Those that got directly in their way were quickly felled with savage precision, mostly courtesy of Azamor's countless years of experience with all manner of weaponry.

Both would be more comfortable with a sword in their hands. Once they got the sword, they wouldn't need to maintain the Duality.

So they kept moving.
Aryll Imaali

“This is your High Prince. Bow!”

’High Prick,’ is more like it.

She barely attempted to keep the disdain off of her face. The high prince of these damn mongrels was here? Oh, how she’d like to give him a piece of her mind! She’d been forced from her home, her life, among strangers! She’d been given these rough garments, the food that her nerves wouldn’t let her swallow, and those damned looks of superiority from the guards she dared to make eye contact with.

And there was the architect of it all, or one of them. Or, perhaps he played no part in it, but if he demanded that the assembled women bow, then he was certainly not acting against it. She wished, very briefly, that she had the courage to leap over the table and wrap her hands around his throat, but it was for the best that she didn’t.

The courage to fight, it seemed, was also a desire to die.

Still, she looked at some of the other girls, the ones standing. She hadn’t bothered to learn their names, having been too busy sulking to socialize, but now she found herself inspired by them. After all, if all of them stood, they couldn’t rightly kill all of them, could they? Where would they get their brides, then? She stood, jaw set, defiant, until a sickening thought forced its way into her mind.

They can’t kill all of you, but they could just kill you.

And then another thought, one that made her chest ache a bit.

Sigmund…

The defiance left her, then, like air from a balloon. So long as she still lived, it was her duty to keep herself that way. For her father, for her mother. For Sigmund. She had to get back, survive long enough to find an opening.

She looked down, not daring to meet the eyes of the girls that had the bravery to stand. There was shame, then, and a feeling that she’d let them down. She slowly, haltingly lowered herself to her knees and then trained her eyes firmly on the ground.

And there was the anger, again. For once, it wasn’t at the Drakken, but at herself.

Coward.


Kaivor Igvrius

Interacting with: Ineraz Evrenarth@SilverPaw

Železna Kri was not exactly as he’d remembered it, from almost 170 years ago, but it wasn’t radically different. He’d only ever been in the city during Choosings, and so the hustle and bustle in the streets was nothing new. There was an air of importance that he didn’t much like.

But, then, he didn’t like a lot of things.

There was something almost surreal about the markets, when he got to thinking about them. So many things from so many places, all congregated into one dusty city.

It was unnatural.

He didn’t like it, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use it. Though, today, nothing in the street stalls had grabbed his eyes. He had plans to make a purchase, or at least attempt to. It had come to his attention that the younger Evrenarth son had, in his possession, beasts. They were vicious, he was told.

Perfect.

Doubtless, Ineraz wouldn’t have many of the beasts on him. Kaivor was fine with waiting for an order. So, he stood outside the gates of the Evrenarth estate, hoping that the guard he’d spoken to had actually delivered his name and message to Ineraz, instead of leaving him to stand out there like a fool.






The adult content preference has changed from the last sheet, but I'm going to head back and edit that on Kaivor's sheet, too.
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